Impulse Control
by alli1
Summary: Neal tests Peter's patience once again, and the results aren't pretty. Much belated sequel to 'Alternative Sentencing'. Contains spanking, so please skip this if that's not your thing.


**Impulse Control**

They stood staring at each other grimly across Neal's dining table. Peter with his hands on his hips, infuriated and exasperated; Neal nervously clenching and unclenching his fists.

Neal looked away first; uncharacteristically for him. He knew the first rule of the con was always maintaining eye contact, but he found he couldn't. Not when Peter was so, so angry. Not when Peter had every right to be. He was well aware that the fact that everything had turned out all right in the end did not hold any water with the older man.

Even Jones and Diana had been sympathetic when they had seen how livid Peter was and while Neal appreciated their feelings, their trepidation increased his own exponentially.

And now they were in his apartment. Peter had warned him when they left the FBI offices what was going to happen and had offered the choice of his own home or Neal's place. Since Mozzie was out of town doing Mozzie-like things and June had bridge on Wednesday afternoons, Neal chose his own home. He didn't want El, or even Satchmo for that matter, witnessing an unpleasant scenario, and he also didn't want a potentially painful ride back to Riverside.

But even as he as making the decision, he didn't think that Peter would actually go through with it. Peter had spanked him once before, but it had been months ago, and it had been a spur-of-the-moment thing; a spontaneous reaction to a situation that could have gotten out of hand.

This time was different. It was intentional; deliberate and anticipated. But words were his best weapon, so he felt sure she could talk Peter out of his plans. He pasted on a rueful grin and forced himself to meet the older man's eyes.

"So, how long am I grounded for this time?" he asked, hoping to show contrition and diffuse a little of Peter's anger.

The agent said nothing, just slowly shook his head and Neal realized belatedly that treating the matter casually was not the way to go.

Trying for a more remorseful expression, he started again. "Look, Peter, I…."

"No, Neal. I don't want to hear any explanation or apology you managed to concoct on the way here. I saw everything I needed to from the surveillance tapes and from the scene."

"But Peter…"

"I said 'no' Neal, and for once I would like you to do as you're told."

Neal swallowed the words he was going to speak, realizing how little good they would do now. He had discovered early on in their relationship that Peter was actually easier to persuade and reason with when he was yelling. When he spoke calmly, Neal knew there was little point in trying to change his mind.

"I think it would be best if you go ahead and get changed," Peter said quietly and firmly.

"Changed?" Neal repeated, confused.

"I think you'll be more comfortable if you get out of that suit you're wearing," Peter said gruffly. "Why don't you throw on some sweats, if you own any."

Neal's eyes widened when he grasped the implications of Peter's instruction.

"Peter, please. You don't need to do this. I'll remember next time. I will..." he began; disturbed to find that he was almost stuttering, but once again the older man cut him off and nodded toward the dressing area of Neal's apartment.

"I'm sorry it's come to this too, but it has, so go get changed."

Neal numbly moved off in the direction of his closet. Now that the reality of physical punishment was on him, he realized exactly how much he was dreading it.

He wasn't worried about the pain. It would be uncomfortable, no doubt about that. The impromptu flurry of swats Peter had given him a few months before showed exactly how disagreeable a hard hand hitting his tender rear could be, and he had a feeling this time would make that session seem like a walk in the park. But he also knew as well as he knew any of his names that Peter would never really hurt him.

He had even offered to take a spanking once, as a trade, when he had pulled a stunt Peter had not approved of and the older man had grounded him on a weekend that he had been planning to attend a gallery opening. To his surprise, Peter had been irate at the suggestion.

"You still don't get it, do you, Neal?" he had fumed. "Me punishing you isn't one more thing you get to negotiate around to get what you want. You don't get to pick and choose the consequences. You said you trust me. Well, trust me to make the right decisions when it comes to disciplining you."

No, it wasn't fear of being hurt that made his heart clench—it was the utter, gut-wrenching humiliation of having Peter bring him home to _deal_ with him like a naughty child. With an absent father and an uninvolved mother, he had never really had to fear or anticipate any consequences for his misbehavior while growing up, and he found it to be a very unsettling experience.

And then there was the whole question of how Peter might actually do it. Somehow he couldn't picture himself going over Peter's knee, but with no experience other than those few spur-of-the-moment swats, he really didn't know what the older man was planning, and that was seriously unnerving him too.

He knew Peter worried about him, protected him and put himself on the line for him time after time, and Neal constantly tested him by refusing to play by the rules. He also knew he could refuse to allow Peter to punish him, and Peter would back down. But he wanted to show the older man that he _did_ trust him, and he wanted to make him proud.

With renewed resolve, he stripped out of his suit and pulled on casual clothes, straightened his shoulders and tried to steel himself for what was to come.

Peter had managed to keep his stern demeanor until Neal left the room, but once he was alone he sank into a chair, overcome with a wave of doubt.

He had been resolute the whole way from the office, but once they arrived, his determination wavered. Could he do it? Could he actually …what? Haul Neal over his knee? Bend him over a chair? Just the thought of doing something like that made him light headed. For all of his childish and impulsive behavior, Neal _was_ an adult.

No, he couldn't do it. He would just call the whole thing off. After all, he knew he had other options he could use to punish Neal. Grounding the younger man, curtailing his activities, assigning him extra, unpleasant tasks; they had all been moderately successful in reining his CI in, in letting him know that there were rules he had to follow and consequences for breaking them.

Then he sighed.

This situation was beyond all that and he knew it. And more importantly, so did Neal. Neal had gone so far out of the bounds of acceptable behavior that Peter had no choice. If he didn't use the ultimate sanction of a spanking, especially once he had promised Neal one, then it would definitely be sending the wrong message, and he would lose all credibility with the younger man.

Even though he knew Neal was nervous, not following through seemed like he would be letting him down, just when he needed Peter most. With little structure and apparently few boundaries growing up, Neal seemed to crave the strictures Peter put in place and in fact had seemed to thrive under them. Unfortunately, that didn't make what he was planning any easier.

The last and only other time he had been moved to spank Neal he had not taken time to think it through. He had just reacted; letting worry, fear and adrenaline dictate his actions.

But this time was different. He had told Neal what to expect and he knew in his heart and mind that he had to follow through.

Peter suddenly felt a deep kinship with his father, beginning to understand how difficult it must have been for the man to set and enforce limits for his stubborn and headstrong son.

Peter had been a careful and intelligent boy, not prone to silly behavior. But his intelligence had made him both willful and cocky, and sometimes the only way his father was able to break through that cockiness and show his obstinate son the error of his ways was with physical punishment. For the first time he realized how hard that must have been for his gentle and loving dad.

But difficult or not, he was resolved to follow through and it would make things easier on both of them if he at least _seemed_ to know what he was doing. He realized that for a mistake of this nature, he was going to need to make the punishment fairly severe, and for that, he'd need an implement of some sort.

It wasn't about causing real pain—he would no more hurt Neal than his father had hurt him when he'd been spanked growing up, but he needed to give him more than a token punishment. His hand wouldn't be able to impart much of a lesson over clothing, and he wasn't comfortable asking the younger man to bare himself.

A quick glance around Neal's apartment revealed several things that he could use, and he found the analytical part of his mind weighing the pros and cons of each to find the perfect tool.

A heavy, sturdy wooden ruler sat among Neal's collection of art supplies and Peter went and gathered it, testing its weight and balance. He decided it would do fine as an impromptu paddle.

He took off his coat and rolled up his sleeves in preparation. Fortunately the ride over and the subsequent contemplation had cooled his anger. He might be new to this, but he knew that the first rule, the main one, was never discipline in anger. Even when he had swatted Neal before, he had been careful to not step over the line.

Neal returned to the main room a moment later, dressed in a paint spattered long sleeve tee shirt and sweat pants. The outfit made him look even younger than usual, and Peter wasn't sure if that made what he was about to do easier or harder.

He saw Neal startle when he noticed the ruler in Peter's hand.

"You're going to use that?" Neal asked in a voice very unlike his usual suave tones.

"It's either this or bare. I thought you'd prefer this," Peter said gruffly.

"Peter, I …."

"No, Neal, you understand why we're here, and why this is what has to happen. We're not going to argue about it, so you're just going to have to accept it." Peter made his voice as unyielding as possible to hide the reluctance he was still feeling.

Without giving either of them time to think about it any more, Peter took Neal by the arm and moved them over to the dining table. He drew a chair out and after planting his foot on it, he pulled Neal over his upraised knee, securing his firmly and ignoring the younger man's yelp of surprise. He had already decided to give him twenty five, hoping that was a reasonable amount. He had no idea how many his father had given him during a usual punishment. When he had been on the receiving end, he would have guessed somewhere in the vicinity of a thousand, but he was pretty sure it hadn't really been that many.

Gritting his teeth, he brought the ruler down with what he thought was sufficient force. Judging from Neal's pained gasp, it was.

With a determination he didn't really feel, he continued to snap the heavy wood down, counting silently and resolutely ignoring the growing signs of distress from the younger man. Neal squirmed and twisted, his movements growing more frantic as the punishment continued, but he didn't really fight Peter's hold on him.

Peter stopped at twenty five as planned, unsure whether he or Neal was more relieved. He had put quite a bit of force into the last few, aiming them down low near Neal's thighs and Neal had gone rigid under his arm, panting hard.

With an awkward pat, he nudged the younger man up. Neal stood unsteadily, staring at anything but Peter, his hands fluttering ineffectually at his side.

"Get yourself together. I'll wait for you outside," Peter said quietly as he set the ruler back on the table and moved out to the patio.

Neal couldn't have found the breath to reply if he wanted to. Though he had not cried, it was a nearer thing than he ever would have anticipated. The ruler had been an unpleasant surprise, and wielded by a very determined Peter, HURT.

He waited until Peter was out of sight and then rubbed his bottom furiously, trying to ease the sting. He was only partially successful and he had the uncomfortable suspicion that he would be feeling some of those final swats for most of the evening.

He still couldn't believe that the older man had not only gone through with the promised punishment, but had actually pulled him over his knee. It hadn't been as bad as a full over the lap spanking but it had still ranked pretty high on the humiliation scale.

Now that the whole embarrassing episode was finished, he realized he wasn't quite sure what to do with himself. If it were entirely up to him, he would fall into his bed face down and stay there for the rest of the night, but he knew Peter would never just leave without them talking.

He went to the kitchen to grab himself a drink before he faced his handler again, unhappy with the way even his soft sweat pants chafed as he walked. He poured himself a glass of wine, debating whether to grab Peter a beer while he was at it. Deciding the older man could get his own if he wanted one, he reluctantly made his way outside.

When Neal joined him on the terrace, Peter was not surprised to see the rather large glass of wine in his hand. Clearly he needed a little liquid fortification after his ordeal.

Since Neal was always the consummate host, Peter figured he was still either too dazed or too resentful to think of offering Peter a beer. He wished he had thought to grab himself one. Though he was sure Neal wouldn't appreciate the sentiment, the situation had been difficult for him too.

They stood silently staring out at the amazing view until Peter finally spoke.

"How are you doing?" he asked gently.

Neal shrugged without speaking, clearly not ready to answer. He sipped his wine silently, staring moodily out into the afternoon. Peter knew he couldn't leave until they talked about what had just transpired, so he decided to help himself to one of the beers Neal kept stocked for him.

Neal finally looked up at him when he returned. "I didn't think you'd really do it," he blurted.

Peter gave a half smile. "To tell you the truth, I wasn't sure I would either. In fact, I could come up with about a hundred reasons not to. But it all came down to one thing, and it's the same reason my dad used to give me: I care about you too much not to."

"Maybe you could care a little less," Neal said irritably, pointedly rubbing his butt.

"And maybe you could learn to behave more sensibly!" Peter shot back, equally irritably.

Neal seemed to mull that over for a minute. "But why a sp…corporal punishment?" he asked, correcting himself quickly.

Peter sighed. "Neal, I've told you before, my choices for dealing with you on the record are pretty limited. You've challenged, bent or flat out ignored every rule and restriction I've placed on you. Even when you've been grounded, I know you twist it in your mind until it becomes something you actually WANT, like time to catch up with your reading and painting, or as a break from time in the van. You try your best not to see it as punishment.

But a spanking doesn't really give you that option. It's one form of punishment you can't con your way around, even in your own mind."

"You do know that impulse issues aside, I'm not a kid, right?" Neal pointed out sourly.

Peter looked over at his CI; hair falling in his face, disheveled and dressed more casually than most people had ever witnessed and had to suppress a smile. At this moment, Neal didn't look anywhere near the adult he was, but he didn't think the younger man would appreciate the sentiment.

"No, you're not. You're a smart, skilled, clever man, but sometimes it seems like some of the basics of self preservation that most kids figure out pretty early on passed you by. You have a fearless streak that frankly terrifies me, and that, coupled with your stubbornness and impulsiveness, makes me worry that this partnership will end with you back in jail—or in a body bag. Neither of those options is acceptable to me."

Neal twirled the stem of his wineglass, watching the dregs of his wine swirl. "You're my handler, Peter. This shouldn't be part of your job description. You shouldn't have to waste your time on this."

Peter grinned. "Nice try, but I don't see keeping you safe and out of trouble as a waste of my time."

Judging from the petulant expression Neal still seemed unconvinced, so Peter continued. "You could have been killed so easily today, and you didn't even seem shaken by that. Frankly, I think for you, death is abstract. It's an idea that you might think about from time to time, or that you and Mozzie might stay up late debating over a bottle or two of wine, but it's too intangible to be real worry for you.

"But getting your butt smacked is something concrete. If you don't fear one, maybe I can get you to fear the other."

"It hurt, Peter," Neal finally said, his voice small. "A lot."

If he was hoping for sympathy, he would be disappointed. "Good. It's supposed to. That's what makes it punishment. But you survived, and maybe you'll stop and think next time you get yourself into a situation that could end with you in prison—or dead. I know you don't like it, and I don't like doing it, but I will again if I need to."

Peter glanced sidelong at Neal, trying to determine how his words were being received. The fact that Neal wasn't arguing or protesting made Peter suspect that at least some of what he had said made sense to the younger man.

"Are we okay now? Peter asked. He didn't want to crowd the younger man, but he was determined to stay and talk as long as Neal needed him to.

"We're all right," Neal admitted reluctantly. "At least most of me is."

"Good. I'm going to get going then," he said, draining the remains of his beer in one gulp. "There's just one more thing."

Neal looked up at him expectantly and Peter found himself hesitating, afraid that Neal would find it condescending or just plain weird, but since he had let his own upbringing guide him this far he decided to follow his instincts.

"My dad and I had a tradition of sorts after I had gotten in to trouble and been punished. He and I used to plan a day to do something special together, just the two of us. It wasn't a reward. It was just a way for the two of us to reconnect after the slate had been wiped clean. So if you'd like to, I thought we could do something this Saturday."

Neal gave him a strange look and Peter immediately backed off.

"We don't have to if you don't want to. It's just that we're always so busy with work, I thought it might be nice to just go to the driving range and hit a bucket of balls or take in a movie or something."

"You'd want to do that with me?" Neal asked hesitantly, sounding surprised.

"Yes, I would, but only if it's something you'd enjoy. There's no pressure."

Peter was relieved to see the first genuine smile he had seen from Neal since they'd arrived appear.

"I'd like that," he said, sounding uncharacteristically shy.

"I would too, so think about what you might like to do, and we'll plan it for this Saturday."

Neal nodded. "I will. And I promise, no _avant garde_ gallery openings."

"I'd appreciate that. I figure in a city this big, there has to be something we'd both enjoy."

Peter picked up his jacket and walked to the door. "Take it easy tonight, okay? It's been a long day. For both of us."

Neal shook his head ruefully. "Trust me; I'm not going to do anything tonight except face plant on my bed."

"Good. Then this will be one night I won't have to worry what you're up to."

"Liar," Neal said with a grin. "You worry all the time. It's what you do."

Peter shrugged. "I can't deny it, but give me a break, huh? At this rate I'll be totally gray before I'm sixty."

"You'll make it look good," Neal vowed and then he hesitated.

"What?" Peter asked astutely.

"Are you going to tell Elizabeth about this?"

Peter shook his head. "No, I'm not planning to."

"But you guys don't keep secrets from each other," Neal persisted.

"That's true," Peter acknowledged, "but there's a difference between keeping a secret and keeping something private. If Jones came to me with a personal problem, I wouldn't share that with her. Even the closest of husbands and wives have boundaries."

Neal looked relieved. Once less humiliation to suffer.

"Besides, would you really want her to know what you got up to today? Somehow I don't think she would go as easy on you as I did."

"Easy?" Neal sputtered. "That was in no way 'easy'." Then he registered the rest of what Peter had said and his eyes went wide. He had seen Elizabeth angry and worried before and it was a scary sight.

Peter noticed his reaction and gave a satisfied nod. "Keep that thought in mind the next time you might be tempted to do something highly inadvisable."

He opened Neal's door and looked back.

"Are you sure we're okay?"

"Yeah, we are," Neal replied, surprised that he actually meant it.

"Good, then I'll see you tomorrow. We should have an easy day—just sitting around, doing paperwork."

"Sitting?" Neal repeated dubiously.

"You'll survive," Peter said with a grin. "Good night, Neal."

"Good night, Peter."

Neal closed the door and sighed. It had been a difficult day and by all rights he should be upset and embarrassed about what had happened, but instead he actually felt pretty good at the moment. He found that he was thinking more about the planned Saturday outing than he was about the ordeal he had just endured.

He shook his head at his own musings as he shuffled toward his bed. One more mystery to contemplate while he lay on his stomach!

THE END


End file.
